Bronto's Revenge (Barbarian Lust, #2)(21)

“You can get rid of the babies,” Wisteria said. “They put your tribe in danger. I didn’t realize they’d draw the aliens.”

“Wisteria,” Bronto responded, feeling the need to interfere. “I don’t mean to impose, but that may not be a bad thing.”

“Bronto’s right,” Vulcan agreed, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. “We can use them as bait. It’ll give us the opportunity to knock the species off. We’ll make sure the pen is guarded at all times. We’ll even build a roof so the babies are not in jeopardy.”

Why not build them a condo? Bronto smirked. Vulcan was right. The most important thing was keeping the babies safe. “If we’re going to build the pen, it may be wise to start on it now before any more aliens appear. They’re getting desperate.”

“Then use the wood we chopped for the huts.”

Bronto glared at Vulcan over his nose. “The wood I busted my ass to whack into pieces for more than eight hours straight?”

“Yep, that would be it.”

“Okay.” What was he cranking about? Seriously, building a dinosaur pen was a great idea. That was, if the aliens took the bait. If not, well, there was nothing he could do besides grab an ax and chop down a thousand more trees. That was a slightly inflated number but what the hell. Why not a thousand? They could build log cabins and scrap the huts. They’d even have enough left over to build Birmon a treehouse and the serpent a den.

He needed to quit riding the woman about her pets. Her intentions were practical. Smart, actually. He was just being a jackass because he had an itch he wanted Ivy to scratch. Self-preservation could wreck a man. If Ivy had an entourage of animals he’d build each and every one its own dwelling too.

Initially Bronto couldn’t comprehend Vulcan’s infatuation for the cavewoman from the Peaceful Clan. Nearly every day for months he’d wandered to the lake and hidden within the surrounding forest while she bathed. Vulcan insisted he’d spied on her from a distance to keep her safe. Bronto referred to it as feeding an obsession.

After she’d emerge from the water cold and dripping wet, Vulcan followed her home. In his words, he’d shadowed her steps to guarantee her safety. Bronto speculated he was appeasing said obsession.

As they said on Earth, hindsight’s twenty-twenty, and Bronto quit second-guessing Vulcan’s crusade the night they’d set off for a hunt and heard her screaming in the distance. They’d beaten ass to the location, her own camp of all places, and found her bound and bleeding between two trees. Aside from Ivy, none of her people rushed to her assistance. As a matter of fact, they’d watched the show as one of their own stood with a whip in his hand. That stuck in Bronto’s craw. He couldn’t even imagine what Vulcan felt. Sure he could. Vulcan wanted to twist that whip into a noose and hang the son of a bitch from the nearest tree. Of course he hadn’t because of his strict governmental rules but he’d retaliated by rearranging the thug’s nose.

In Bronto’s opinion it wasn’t enough. That man damn near beat Wisteria to a bloody pulp. Blood dripped from three or four open gashes across her tummy and thighs. Bronto couldn’t fathom her pain and he’d utilized extreme caution when he cut her loose and sat her down.

Shaking his head, he set off in the direction of the horses, where they’d stacked the wood in piles yesterday. As he veered toward the right he spotted Vulcan veering to the left, aiming for his hut. And be damned, Wisteria was tucked under his arm.

Bronto halted. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” he shouted.

“We’re taking a break.”

“A break?” Break, my ass. He plans on getting a piece. “Do you honestly think there’s time for that? You’ve got a thirteen-bedroom dinosaur ranch to construct, and probably green people lurking in the forest whose arms are long enough to box your ears from there.”

Vulcan shook his head and grinned. After a kiss to the top of Wisteria’s noggin and what appeared to be a quick apology, he turned her by the shoulders, aiming her at Ivy and Jade. After she headed in their direction he trudged across the yard to join Bronto. “Why the sudden chipper mood?”

Bronto verified Ivy’s whereabouts at the supply hut before he started unstacking wood. Grunt had vanished, which eased the knot in his gut. “I’d like a break too but considering I’ve only been up for an hour, it isn’t justifiable,” he said, removing a six-foot piece from the pile.

Vulcan folded his arms across his chest, turned toward Ivy, then faced Bronto, then glanced at Ivy once more. “You either got too much, or you didn’t get any. Which is it?”

“What!” Bronto exclaimed, tossing the wood in the general vicinity of the pen-in-progress.

“You heard me. I know the look. I recognize the attitude.”

“If you know the look and recognize the attitude, then you tell me.”

Vulcan reached for a strip of wood. “Considering your frustration, too much. I’d say you’ve turned into a glutton.”

Bronto didn’t know his problem or what’d caused it but it hit him like a brick. If wanting Ivy that desperately but being forced to wait f*cked him up, then yeah, that was a problem. It meant his patience was shot. Once upon a time he used to be the most tolerant man on the planet. Realistically one f*ck couldn’t alter him to that degree. Maybe not but perhaps one f*ck, the most memorable of his life, could.